6-26-10
Day 24
Oklahoma City to Chandler
It was time to leave again, so we packed the bike and gear into the van and fastened the kids down with Rochelle in the back seat. The weather remained consistent during my stay, so today was very much like the day I arrived. It was going to be warm in the high 90s with humidity a factor in comfort, but I was ready for the road and all the good that would come my way. Michael dropped me off in Arcadia where the Round Barn is an attraction, and it was big and red. I wondered why it was not called the Big Round Red Barn! It was built in 1898, originally used for sheltering livestock and, most importantly, used for dances for the town folk. Gotta have fun sometimes. With the decline of Route 66, the barn became dilapidated and before its demise was restored in the late 1980’s by Luke Robison, a retired contractor. He and other retired contractors were given the name ‘The Over the Hill Gang’ and are responsible for its restoration.
I gave Michael and Rachelle a big kiss and a hug. The babies, of course, were given kisses and hugs along with my usual blessing on their foreheads, and a silent prayer for good health and happiness throughout their life. Before riding off I gave right of way to motorcycles passing through. I found out that there was a motorcycle run in honor of the Traveling Wall for the Veterans of Vietnam. I launched myself onto Route 66, the Mother Road . I found myself sharing this road with many more motorcycle vacationers and, needless to say, commercial trucks. The road was narrow with no shoulder, so I was riding tight to the edge of the road. The landscape was thick with very few farms and residential homes. The sounds were abundant when not in competition with the motorcycles passing. During this time of silence the frogs, although not leaping, were croaking loud. Then, who’s to say they are not leaping and croaking at the same time? The bird calls carried on as if in a congregation of a million humans all yakking at one time, nevertheless creating a symphony of song. It is amazing how the color green is so inviting, relaxing the eyes and expanding the mind with thoughts of abundant life and an excitement of being a part of it, even if only for a short time. The ride was comfortable and while coming onto a bridge I glanced at my map for a split second longer than needed, when my right brake clipped the guardrail causing the front wheel to veer hard to the right sending me over the handlebars like a bird in flight -- but I was definitely not singing. Instead, with no time to think I did a very natural response which was learned while on the job during our physical agility safety training – PAST. Tuck and roll, but in this environment, the Armadillo Roll. Call it what you like, it worked, because after the sequence of my shoulder and hip contact with the pavement I found myself standing faced in the direction I was riding. I slowly turned in hopes that the bike was not totaled. Fortunately, I only lost the rear brake casing leaving me with a loose but operative rear brake handle. My front wheel was no longer true; even after releasing the brake cable it was still sticking at the top end of the fork. I had 10 miles to go before getting into Chandler , and I was NOT going to walk. So, I did my best in loosening and retightening the spokes until I got the clearance I needed for the wheel to roll freely. Unfortunately, I was riding on only the rear brake. My injuries were minimal – a bruised wrist, shoulder and strawberry hip, none of which affected my ability to ride. I was very thankful for the shape I am in. These roads can be long and empty of traffic leaving someone without help for a while.
Once again, I rode to my destination, hot and fatigued checking into the Lincoln Motel, one of the few remaining places of lodging in the area. I took time to call my good friend John Olsen in Tulsa . I informed him that I would be in Tulsa in two days and in the same breath, mentioned my unannounced appointment with the road and requested a list of local bike shops. He, in turn, suggested that he would pick me up that night. I was very appreciative of his offer, but declined stating I would continue the ride to Bristow at which point he could pick me up there. As adamant as he was in picking me up that night, I convinced him that everything would be fine and that I looked forward to seeing him in Bristow.
Just for a moment I felt how those that have traveled this road with little or no shelter, and no idea where they would lay their very tired bones for the night. Timeless connections of humanity
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